


remnants

by obelus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Impala, Impala Fic, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 12:19:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5967198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obelus/pseuds/obelus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there's a ghost in the car. dean doesn't know how to move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	remnants

There's a ghost in the car. Dean is sure of it. Chills haunt the passenger seat, the dash, Dean's right side. They wrap icy arms around him when he absentmindedly buys two meals, when he speaks, expecting someone to be listening, when he glances to his right and there's nothing there. Icy tendrils wrapped around his brain, his chest, and Dean can't breathe. He's drowning in dirt, blood, salt, water, and hazel eyes. He feels the wetness on his face, the absence in the seat next to him, the hands that are definitely _not_ gripping his shoulders, the warm breath on his cheek that isn't there. 

_'Hey, hey, hey, Dean, it's okay. I'm here. I'm here.'_

A kind, deep, _gentle_ voice echoes in Dean's ears, phantom pain seizing his sternum when he reaches into empty space. A headache begins to flare behind his eyes.

Actually, screw that. This isn't "phantom" pain; it's real. Even though the limb is gone, the open, infected, gaping wound that will never, _ever_ heal, is still gushing blood. 

The thought flickers through Dean's cloudy mind miserably. He hadn't even noticed he'd pulled over.

Dean scrubs a hand over his face, lacking the energy to sigh. His hand comes away wet. 

Pulling back onto the highway, he decides enough is enough. He's heading towards Detroit; a series of dog attacks, and it's the right lunar cycle for a werewolf. 

Some joke in Sam's voice about Cujo is whispered in Dean's ear, taunting.

He shoves it away, grim faced, knuckles white on the steering wheel. His pulse pounds behind his forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> this was kinda rough, sorry! just an interesting concept that popped into my head.


End file.
